Sword of Damocles
by 6thbeachboy
Summary: The Sword of Damocles is hanging over my head, and I've got the feeling someone's gonna be cutting the thread. *not TW


My eyes lock onto two bright, non-human blue eyes, making me stiffen. The face surrounding it is morphed into a stronger, more alpha bone structure than any human could have, fangs sticking out of their mischievous grin. I freeze as they lean closer to me, feeling their deep growl in my own chest as if I was doing it. Beads of sweat drip down their forehead as they pant heavily from whatever they were doing beforehand.

I gulp at the closeness of us, looking over their shoulder at my high school and thinking of ditching them, but I knew I'd never be able to outrun them. I need to do something. So with that, I suck in a breath, and I—

"Hi, Bri," I grin, amused, as the werewolf in front of me backs up with a blink of her eyes. "What? Thought you'd get a different reaction?"

Brionica frowns. "I wanted to scare you." As she said this, her face went back to its normal shape. My eyes met two hazel ones instead.

I raise an eyebrow. "And? The most you're going to get out of me is a jump, and maybe a gasp. I don't scream," I pause, suddenly realizing the unintentional lie, "well... unless it's banshee related, but you know what I mean."

I throw my backpack over my shoulders, pull my long brown hair out from underneath, and walk through the maze of cars. Brionica follows me, her shoulder length light brown hair tucked behind her ears.

"Wait-" I suddenly exclaim, eyes wide "-did we have math homework?"

Brionica rolls her eyes with a light chuckle. "Yup. I don't think math cares at all that it's the first week of school."

I step onto the concrete leading into the school building, groaning obnoxiously loud to show the absurdity math has to do this to me. "That's it. I'm dropping out."

Brionica burst into laughter. "Same."

Okay, if you haven't guessed it already, Brionica and I are supernatural creatures. Yes, yes, the supernatural is real here in Liberty. Of course just like in every other supernatural show, book, or movie, the townspeople are ignorant to this fact. It honestly blows my mind sometimes, but ignorance is bliss, I guess.

Brionica and I push through the double doors and make our way up the stairs to the second floor, conversing about old vines with random bursts of laughter and loud remarks—the former from her, the latter from me.

We sharply turn the corner into the math hallway, deeply imbedded in our conversation when I crash into someone. I watch as the papers previously in his hands explode like confetti and how he tries to catch all of it before it falls, largely unsuccessful. I gasp and quickly fall to the floor to help him pick up the papers with multiple apologies to him.

The man simply shakes his head with a polite smile, telling me that it's okay. His medium length black hair shakes along with his head. When the two of us stand up, he's a few inches shorter than myself, but I can tell he's older. Like a teacher or something old.

We awkwardly nod to one another before going our separate ways. I can't help but look over my shoulder at him as he hurries down the staircase Brionica and I just walked up. I've never seen him around before.

"Who's that?" Brionica asks.

I sigh. "I don't know."

With that, we start heading to Mr. Estvanic's again. The bell rings the moment we both walk through the door, an "oo, it still counts!" and an amused laugh coming from me as Mr. Estvanic gives us a playful glare from his desk.

I go to my seat in the front corner, thankful to not be sandwiched in the middle of the room, and sink happily into my seat. That's until I remember I didn't do my homework.

I shoot up, ripping my white folder out of my backpack and pulling out the literal equations worksheet as the announcements project on the smart board in the front of the room. I frantically scribble down answers, not caring if they're right or not because I've already figured out that Mr. Estvanic is the type of math teacher to check for completion and not accuracy. I'll have to remind myself not to take advantage of that or fall into this bad habit.

After about five minutes of me panicking while writing random shit down, Mr. Estvanic pulls the homework up and shows the correct answers as I cringe when looking back and forth between the board and my paper.

"What the hell?" A voice yells with no hesitation to swear loudly in class, and I know exactly who it is. Mar—

"Marcus!" Mr. Estvanic scolds with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "You can't just swear like that, bud."

"I mean, as the teacher, you could swear whenever you want to," Marcus replies, fiddling with the pencil in his left hand.

"Yeah, but I choose not to on purpose. Just because I can doesn't mean I should." Mr. Estvanic gets a look in his eye, and I realize he's going to hit us up with one of his analogies. "That's like saying because I'm able to get crack from the street that I should do it and smoke it in front of you guys, you know what I'm saying?"

I laugh suddenly, a weird sound - like a chicken that's choking - accompanying my normal wheeze of a laugh. Marcus chuckles with a shrug to Estvanic.

We continue class like normal. Marcus texting Brionica and I through our group chat. Brionica being attentive to Mr. Estvanic. Me having a healthy balance of paying attention and texting my mom and Marcus. I find that teachers are normally more lenient with me because I look them in the eyes, nod my head, and let them know that I'm paying attention to every word they say when I know it's necessary. With all the fucker teenagers, I think they appreciate it, so they cut me some slack because I get good grades. Plus I like being the security blanket for people. It makes me feel good.

Alright before we get too mushy, I'm gonna have to stop right there. I look up from my phone to the example problem Estvanic is halfway through on the board when I hear a loud sneeze. I jump, snapping my head to the source and paling at the sight.

Marcus sneezed. That's normal. Nothing wrong with a sneeze. Well besides the fact that the pencil he had in his hand is now a fucking snake.

Our eyes meet, his panicked, mine calm and collected to try to get it to rub off on him. I try to get my message across through my eyes. _Don't panic and no one will notice there's a snake in your hand._

It's not a huge snake. It's small enough to be a pencil. A very flexible pencil.

I hear the snap of fingers, then a sigh of relief following it. Marcus is now holding a pencil again.

I go to the group chat. _Dude, what the fuck!_

Marcus: _I didn't mean to_

Me: _well what was meant to happen and what happened are different things_

Bri: _Marcus I thought you had this under control?_

Marcus: _Magic is harder than it looks! And why are you guys ignoring that Lexi isn't in tune with her banshee shit?_

Me: _pointing out my problems won't make yours go away~~_

Marcus: _I hate you_

Me: _love you too dickbox :)))_

I shake my head. Dummies.

* * *

Three knocks on the door made everyone freeze in Government. Mr. Shawver, or who I like to call Shawv, gets out his rolling chair and walks to the door. "Yes, Mr. Walter?" He asks, blue eyes flicking towards me since he knows I'm most likely the only reason Mr. Walter is knocking on the door in person.

Mr. Walter is the disciplinary principle. He's an extremely laid back man. So laid back that if he got any calmer, he'd be levitating.

That's not the case with me. I know deep down Mr. Walter loves me and wonders why I make his life a living hell, but he gets very angry with me.

Let me give you the basics. So last year, I'd leave classes all the time. Supernatural business. Of course, though, he doesn't know that. He just thinks I'm being an annoying teenager, which I'm intentionally playing that part so he'll stop asking questions, but it only leads to more. I hate lying. It makes my righteousness feel dirty, so I try to refrain. But I am very good at lying, and I will use that skill when protecting Brionica, Marcus, and I and our secret.

"Is Alexis Morgan here?"

All eyes turn to me. I flash them an amused grin in response.

"Yeah, she's right here." Mr. Shawver faces me, Mr. Walter to his back, and sends me a harsh glare. _What're you in trouble for now?_ He mouths at me.

I shoot a cold glare right back at him, one that puts his to shame, with the roll of my eyes following. _What do you think?_

I grab my backpack, doing the same routine as usual, and leave the classroom. I make sure to playfully push Mr. Shawver as I pass him, but it was serious at the same time.

I boredly follow Mr. Walter down the history hallway, staring at every poster surrounding me and taking my time on reading each of them until Mr. Walter would bark at me to hurry up. We turn into the English hallway, where the main office and principle offices are located as well, and I sigh melodramatically.

Mr. Walter looks at me over his shoulder. He's about a foot taller than me, so it was easy for him. "Do you enjoy annoying me?"

"Yes, I enjoy the satisfaction I get from you breaking out of your carefree character to scold me about things we already know won't be fixed." I flash him an over exaggerated grin, feeling a pang in my chest when he rolls his eyes and faces the front again.

No, I do not enjoy the dissatisfaction I get from him breaking out of his carefree character to scold me about things we already know won't be fixed. My goal in life is to make people, anyone and everyone, feel welcome and like themselves around me. So it hurts me very much that Mr. Walter can't do that with me.

I guess neither of us are ourselves near each other.

I wish he could understand the frustrations I have that I can't just scream out, "hey, supernatural creatures are real, and I'm one of them, but I'm the good kind!" That would get a weird stare, but it would get the job done. I can't let him into the supernatural world because then he would be a target for them, so I have to keep him ignorant. I have to be an asshole to keep the secret. It is an absolute last, last, last, last, last resort to tell him about supernatural creatures. And that's if, like, Armageddon or the Apocalypse is near.

Walking into his office, I wince at the sight of Brionica and Marcus nervously fidgeting in their seats. Great. Not only will I have to look out for myself, but I'll have to look out for them too.

I throw my backpack on the floor at my feet and plop into my chair with a relaxed sigh. What? His chairs are comfy. "So what's the offense today, officer?"

"Nothing yet," Mr. Walter sits down and his eyebrow twitches as if to silently say, _but it's still the first week of school._ "This is a warning meeting, and hopefully the only meeting." He clasps his fingers together in front of him as I sink a little further into my seat with a smile. "There will be no leaving class at the same time as the other. There will be no... destruction of the school that you three claim you have nothing to with it. There will be no _'I wish to assert my fifth amendment privilege'_ from Alexis over here. There will be you three in class all year, getting grades you deserve as my school stays intact." His light blue eyes become dark, and it's almost as if I can hear the deep rumbling of thunder to accent his words. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Walter. You made yourself so very clear to the point that you put windex to shame," is what I would say if I wasn't trying to be an asshole, and I was trying to be my normal goofy, lighthearted self.

Instead, I replied, "Are you asking me?"

I watch as the intimidation in Mr. Walter's eyes crack.

"I think he's asking me," Marcus says with the perfect mask of confusion. I send him a discreet smirk at that. The two of us turn to Brionica, mentally screaming at her to not mess this up. She shrugs.

"I think he's asking _both_ of you."

Marcus and I let out the breath we'd been holding. I give Brionica a wink before turning to Mr. Walter. His face is a deep red, and it looks like he's seconds away from exploding. "Get. Out." He growls through gritted teeth. "Now."

Even though we may be supernatural creatures, Mr. Walter could chokeslam us into another dimension so I'm not taking that risk, dude. We run out of his office with our tails between our legs. We glance at one another. We kept the secret yet again, but we pissed Mr. Walter off. Yet again.

* * *

"Mrs. Dawson?" I ask, picking up my backpack in the nearly empty room. "When are we gonna have our first lab?"

Chemistry is the last class period I have, and it's Friday today so I get to go home and relax after this emotionally draining week of school.

"I'm going to teach you to use the Bunsen Burner next week," Mrs. Dawson replies through her thick Spanish accent. She sighs, looking at the huge stack of papers on her desk. "Mrs. Dawson is going to stand in a corner and scream," she refers to herself in the third person, making it even funnier.

I laugh, shaking my head at her. "I feel you, Mrs. Dawson. I hope you have a good weekend, though."

She smiles at me, "those are my days off. Of course it will be good."

With our goodbyes to each other, I walk through the science hallway, down the steps, and out the door. I'm hit with a blast of warm air since summer still lingers. I smile at the different shades of green surrounding me, my black clothing an interesting contrast to it. I cut through the parking lot, finding my vehicle and putting my backpack on the backseat before hopping in the drivers seat.

I pause for a second, not hitting any buttons or turning the car on. I just pause and enjoy the calmness my car brings me since I'm alone at last. While I'm a fan of social interaction, I get burnt out very easily, and I need to recharge. I think a nap is the perfect charger.

I take my key and stick it in the ignition (so gimme that toot toot), connecting my phone to my car and picking music to turn on. If there's something you should know about me, it's that I'm obsessed with music. It's like the deepest part of my soul cries out in music. Take a wild guess, and you'd be right that I'm a choir nerd. Alto II, baby. Gotta love those low notes.

I bounce around in my seat to "It Was A Good Day" by Ice Cube, smiling at the bass vibrating my car. I finally pull out of my parking spot when the traffic jam at the exit dies down. I roll my windows down, blasting Ice Cube loud and proud, laughing when some kids look at me and momentarily join my dance. I get into the left lane without thinking _(don't I go right to go home?)_ and look for traffic before driving off into the sunset with my music slowly dying out.

Just kidding, dude. "Stacy's Mom" starts blaring through my speakers as I pass the town of Liberty and slowly notice more and more farm houses popping up and feeling the smooth town roads becoming bumpy, narrow country roads.

My thumbs drum the beat of the music on the steering wheel as a burning sensation radiates from my chest. I'll have to take heartburn pills when I get home.

I blink, and I'm parked in the middle of nowhere. Well, not really. Trees. That's all I can see in front of me. It's all the setting sun will allow me to see.

The burning sensation slowly spreads throughout my body, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to tingle. It's an uncomfortable hum resonating from the deepest fiber of my being. Confusion competes with it on who can be the strongest feeling in my chest.

"Don't Worry Baby" by The Beach Boys plays quietly through my speakers, making my eyebrows crease slightly because I know this song was saved way down the line. How long have I been driving?

I look at the clock. 8:03 P.M.

School lets out at 2:35 P.M.

Before I could interrogate myself any further, a pop followed by a continue ding sounded before it was silenced by a slam.

I'm outside of the car now. My feet start moving themselves one in front of the other, stepping over twigs, poison ivy, and animal holes. They would speed up, take random turns, stop altogether—

I freeze, staring at my still feet. The first thing I notice is the grass underneath my feet looks like it's dying, the pale yellow fading out. The second thing I notice is a hand. Which then leads to an arm. Which then leads to a body. Which then leads to a person. Which then leads to a dead person.

It's just a kid. A ten year old little boy.

He has bumps covering his entire tiny body like a deadly blanket, the only places I can't see any are where his Lightning McQueen clothes hide them from me. His limbs are bent in weird ways, almost looking like he was thrown like a rag doll out here. His fluffy brown hair tattered with sticks. His brown eyes staring blankly to the grass underneath him.

Every second I stare at him, the hotter the burning sensation gets. I wouldn't be surprised if my soul started to get third degree burns.

Something snaps within me. In response, I suck in a breath, and I unleash an earth shattering shrill scream that leaves my throat raw for the whole county to hear.


End file.
